Origin Story
by fangirl-with-a-tennant-fetish
Summary: "He's not a demon." How did Tom know for a fact Hyde wasn't a demon? I mean, he has super strength, he can do superhuman feats and he has black eyes. That all adds up demon for any Supernatural fan. But what if he was told, and proven that Hyde wasn't a demon. By none other than Sam and Dean Winchester. ((Reviews are welcome, probably going to change title/summary later on :D ))
1. Chapter 1

"You know what I do with symptoms? I look them up on the internet"

After it was told to him by his doctor friend, Tom didn't think to consider googling his… Well, whatever he had.

Maybe it was stress. Maybe it was lack of sleep.

But, over time, the curiosity of wanting to know the truth overcame him. So one night, when the twins were asleep and Claire was peacefully dreaming beside him in bed, Tom quietly flicked on a lamp and pulled out a laptop.

He looked at Claire and bit his thumbnail, hoping the sound of him typing didn't wake her up, as well as the brightness from the lamp.

Coast was clear. He begain typing in a search engine.

_Symptom: Hair on arms, subconscious notes, blackouts_

No results

_Symptom: hair on arms, writing gibberish, blackouts_

No results

_Symptom: Hair on arms_

Lots of results but none that Tom was looking for.

_Symptom: Subconscious notes_

Again, an abundance of results, yet none that satisfied Tom. One result was something along the lines of 'writing notes subconsciously could be the result of a repressed emotion, such as love or affection, to someone, then accidentally confessing that love to that person.'

Tom scoffed quietly "I don't love my secretary."

He glanced at Claire. Still asleep.

He began typing again.

_Symptom: Blackouts_

Yet again, no results that were relevant to his situation.

Tom sighed and began to bite his nail again, he closed his laptop and started to think. He looked at Claire once more and remembered something quite important.

He quickly started up the laptop again and knew exactly what to look up.

_Symptom: Black pupils/black eyes_

The results all lead to one answer: a demon.

"Am… Am I possessed?"

Just then, the light from the lamp began to flicker.


	2. Chapter 2

"Dean." The young, floppy-haired Sam Winchester called his older brother. "I know you miss dad."

The oldest Winchester ignored his brother and began chomping on his bacon-double cheeseburger that a waitress gave him.

"But we can't just go from town to town and eat at every diner, drive-in and dive you find." Sam glared at his brother, currently devouring his burger.

Sam grabbed the half-eaten cheeseburger from his brothers hands. "And you can't ignore me everytime I bring this up. We have to talk about it."

"What do you want to talk about? Hm? Dad's dead." Dean took his burger back in an aggressive manner "End of story."

"But Dean-" Sam began to rant but was interrupted by his brother's growl

"Just drop it, Sammy. Would ya?"

"We need to go on a case." Sam sighed.

"Yeah? Find one. Then it's Warp speed." Dean took another bite of his burger.

"I have one actually. It's a long shot but I think it's just what we need." Sam smiled as he took out his laptop from his bag.

"Like I said." Dean took a swig of beer. "Warp speed."

"Bear with me." Sam read from his laptop a newspaper article. "A man, a respected mayor from another town, was visiting London-"

"London?" Dean asked, unamused.

"I said bear with me." Sam cleared his throat. "A man, Dan Carew, was found with his head bashed in, every bone in his body shattered, and no organs missing."

"Sounds like a party." Dean shrugged "What does it have to do with us?"

"It does have to do with us. Because a woman, an eye-witness to the murder, said the man who killed him had black eyes." Sam looked at his brother.

Dean raised an eyebrow "Alright. Now I'm interested. Still ain't going to freaking England interested, but… Interested."

"Look, Dean. This is exactly the distraction you need. Once, just once, let's go International. Let's go to England. Let's hunt some demons and maybe find that son-of-a-bitch who killed dad. This is a lead. This is a case, a strange one at that. And strange is our forte. So either we go check this out right now and actually help people, or we drive 200 metres and check out a cheap diner with crappy service." Sam ranted.

Dean sighed. "I did ask for warp speed."

Sam smiled "and Spock delivered."

"Nope." Dean shook his head. "Either Checkov or Sulu. Pick one."

"What? Why can't I be Spock?" Sam defended.

"Only Checkov and Sulu manned Warp Speed." Dean corrected.

"Whatever, nerd." Sam grinned as they began to exit the diner.

Dean left cash on the table "Fine, Sulu."

"Why can't I be Checkov?" Sam replied.

"If you don't stop complaining, you'll be Uhura." Dean threatened.

"And you get to be Captain Kirk?" Sam asked.

"Damn straight." Dean nodded.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brothers response.

By this time the brothers were at the Impala.

They both opened their designated doors.

"Winchesters take London?" Sam asked, getting into the car.

"Jolly good show." Dean responded, getting into the drivers seat.

They both closed their doors at the same time and drove away.


	3. Chapter 3

"Well officers Ulrich and Hetfeild, this bloke was moving too fast to really see any facial features. And it was too dark outside to distinguish his hair colour…" The English woman stated, noticing Dean looking out her window at the rental car he and Sam had purchased.

"Something the matter?" She asked.

"He's just…" Sam turned to his brother, "staring at your… garden."

The woman looked confused then shrugged "anyway, it was dark outside yes, but not so dark that I couldn't make out the whites in someones eyes. And that bloke didn't have any. His eyes were legitimately black as…" She looked down at her tea cup in her hand, "Is it stereotypical that my first thought was tea?"

"Black as tea?" Dean chuckled. "Agent Ulrich, can I have a word?"

Dean and Sam walked to the corner of the womans flat.

"Sam, I didn't sit through a long-ass plane ride- which I endured only for the sake of being distracted- to listen to a witness who didn't see what the guy looked like and uses tea as a metaphor for black." Dean told his brother, almost angry.

"Simile." Sam cleared his throat. "It was a simile… And besides, we've chased after stuff with less leads than this. This is a start. We can see if Dan had any enemies or"

"If it was a demon, why would it matter if he had enemies?" Dean asked.

"Look, just…"

Dean replied, "Bear with you?"

Sam smiled "Yeah, bear with me. If this lead turns out to be a dud, I'll buy you a British candy."

"Any British candy?" Dean thought for a moment and returned to the woman. "Tell me, did you know Dan Carew?"

"Not personally." She shook her head, "no. Though he had just recently been on the telly with the prime-minister, saying things like how he'd plan to tear down large businesses to solve our pollution problem with the O-zone crap. Apparently it was all his idea."

"Which businesses did he say?" Sam asked the woman.

"I don't remember." She shrugged.

"Try." Sam ordered.

"Uh, it's nothing too major like a shopping center or something. Just some government buildings like the Klein and Utterson building, uhh, the Hellisbury Hill Motel, stuff like that." She explained.

"So you think someone who works at one of the buildings got pissed and ganked him?" Dean whispered to his brother.

"Now, was there any distinguishing features on this man? You said you couldn't make out his hair colour… But what about anything facial wise? Or height? Anything would help." Sam smiled.

The woman huffed, "Well besides his jet-black eyes, uh… he's pretty tall… Again, he moved far too quick to see… Oh! He talked! He had a thick Irish accent. Northern."

Sam raised a brow, "what… What did he say?"

"He said something along the lines of 'I don't know why I want to hurt you. I just do.' And he kept referring to him as Daddy… I don't know what you can make of that, officers." She shrugged "sorry. Fat lot of good I am, eh?"

"Is there…" Dean sighed, "anything else?"

"Um… Yeah." She leaned in closer to the boys, "now I know you won't believe me. But I swear his ears… Were pointy."

"Pointy?" Sam looked at Dean.

"Pointy." She repeated.

Dean smiled, "Legolas or Spock?"

"reverse Spock. It wasn't the tops that were pointy, it was the bottom of his ears." She told them.

Sam leaned in closer to his brother, "what kind of demon has reverse-Spock ears?"

Dean shrugged, "maybe the meat-suit just had freakish ears."

Sam smiled at the woman, "thank you for your time. We'll be in touch if we have anymore questions."

The two began to leave the womans house.

She stood from her chair "Wait, there's something else. He was smoking a fag and dropped his matchbox. I picked it up and called hospital to get Dan. I already gave it to another detective but it said St. Patrick's Pub on it."

Sam and Dean turned to face the woman, "where is the pub?"


	4. Chapter 4

The stout yet approachable barkeeper was tending to his dirty beer glasses in St. Patrick's when the boys walked into the pub. They introduced themselves as the FBI and they intended to ask him questions.

"Why's the FBI interested in the affairs of an English politician?" The man spoke with a deep Scottish accent.

"It could be connected with another case we're investigating." Sam explained.

"Yeah?" The man scratched the back of his neck. "Alright, I dunno how good of answers I can give ya but I'll try my best."

Sam smiled, "Thanks, that's all we ask. Now, does your bar sell matches?"

"Well my *pub* gives away matches and easy items like that during contests we host. One contest was who could drink the most shots in three minutes. I think that prize was the matches but I'm not sure." He answered.

"Alright." Dean pretended to write in a notepad. "When was this contest?"

"A few days ago I tink. We usually host every second Thursday but one bloke really wanted to show off." The barkeeper replied.

"What was his name?" Sam asked.

The man shook his head, "didn't say a name. But he was very energetic, really... Out there."

"Was he Irish?" Sam raised a brow.

The barkeeper nodded, "Yeah, I don't know where in Ireland he's from but he had a thick northern accent... And curly black hair."

"This might seem like a strange question but did the man have black eyes?" Dean said in a serious tone.

The man paused a moment, "um... I guess. Sure."

"Did he ask for anything? Besides the drinking contest?" Sam asked.

"Well, see I understand asking for the contest. If ya win, the drinks are free and you'd win a prize... And he won. But yeah that was the only ting he'd ask for. Guess he was just wanting some free liquor." The barkeeper chuckled.

"Dean, that's not usual demon behaviour... They'd just kill people for a drink not ask for some contest..." The younger Winchester whispered.

It was at this time when Tom had walked in, tired and needing to relax before he would lose control of himself.

Sam and Dean had noticed him and quickly asked the man behind the counter if the man who had just walked in was the one who had asked for the contest.

"Um... Nah, he looked a wee different. Different hairline. His ears seem normal to me, the other guys ears were on a point. Oh and the other bloke was taller." He explained.

Dean sighed, "thanks. I guess that's all we-"

A drunken man in his mid 40's approached the boys. He was wobbling but remained conscious despite his eyes blinking frequently yet slowly- as if wanting to sleep.

"Are-are you two chaps American?" The drunk asked, he had a very posh English accent and his suit made him to be a usually professional man.

"Yeah. Yeah we are. We're also with the FBI." Dean flashed his badge to the man.

"Ooooh my apologies dear old American pals. Didn't know you were government swines. You should be ruled by a-by a- um... A Prime Minister... Instead of your... Not. I hope that Canada takes you over and calls you... Calls you South Canada! And North America could just be called Canadia... How dare you show your face in my land... The queens land..." The man rambled.

"Sorry, he's not usually like that." The barkeeper told the Winchesters.

"Look, I don't want to get involved but Americans are the reason I still have a job. If they hadn't bought the Klein and Utterson Institute I'd be screwed." Tom looked at the Winchester brothers. "I've seen you before..."

"We're with the FBI, I doubt you've seen us before." Dean scoffed.

"Dean, that guy said he works at Klein and Utterson." Sam whispered.

Dean raised a brow, "So?"

"So... That's one of the buildings Dan said he was going to destroy. Maybe a jealous employee off'd him." Sam replied.

"Working off demons now?" Dean smiled.

"He could have... Summoned a demon... Maybe why he was saying how he didn't want to hurt Dan." Sam shrugged. "We should talk to this guy."

"You there." Dean gestured to Tom. "The one who actually likes Americans... We'd like to ask you a few questions about your job."

Tom nodded, "Um... Yeah, sure... Can we do it outside? I'm craving a smoke."

"No problem." Sam agreed and the three made their way outside.

"I knew I recognized you... But I didn't want to say it inside." Tom told the boys. "You're the Winchesters, right?"

"How could you recognize us?" Dean asked.

"Oh, I went on a website... ... They have a rough sketch of you two explaining who you are and calling you... Well, quite imaginative names." Tom said.

"So I take it you're not really going to smoke, just wanted to get us outside then?" Dean sighed, feeling tricked.

"Oh no I don't smoke." Tom smiled, "never have never will... Listen I need your help... I think I'm possessed."

"Dude... You'd know if you were possessed. You'd get like, super strength, speed-" Dean didn't get a chance to finish.

"And black eyes, right? I have all of that... But only at set times." Tom muttered the last bit.

"Listen, if you're possessed- you're possessed. No demon in their right mind would willingly take turns with their host. It's just not how it's done." Sam explained.

"Well then I'm the exception! Please..." Tom looked at his wristwatch. "Look, follow my car to where I keep my chair."

"Chair?" Dean asked.

"I finished making a chair to tie me up... I don't want to hurt anybody." Dr. Jackman replied. "Please... I need to know what's wrong with me... And if you can fix me."

"Dean I think we should help him. It would just be an easy exorcism- that's it. Wouldn't take more than five minutes." Sam assured.

"I don't know..." Dean looked at Tom, "would you pay us?"

"If you can get rid of whatever's wrong with me... I'll pay you anything you want." Tom pleaded.

"Drive slow then. We still need to get used to driving on the wrong side." Dean joked.

Tom's eyes lit up, "thank you, thank you so much."

"It won't take more than five minutes, I assure you." Sam repeated to Tom.

The Irishman looked impressed at the Winchester brothers remark, and the thought of being cured that quickly was almost impossible to fathom. But he couldn't stop grinning all the way to his car. As if the idea of being freed from the blackouts and waking up covered in blood clouded all rational thoughts. He was just glad he was almost free. With Sam and Dean's rental car following behind him, it was just a matter of time before they approached his spare flat. And he could be rid of his demon.


End file.
